


Thantophobia

by catsmiaow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monster of the Week, Protective Dean, Protective Sam Winchester, Slow Burn, Suspense, Tags May Change, bad movie references, possible poly relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsmiaow/pseuds/catsmiaow
Summary: Fear comes in a lot of forms, as does comfort.  Sometimes they can be one in the same.  When Castiel's phone goes dead on a solo hunt, the brothers have to figure out what happened.  Slow burn Destiel with a possible poly with Sam.





	Thantophobia

**Thantophobia** \- (n.) _The phobia of losing someone you love._

"I'm here, Dean."

To Castiel, the building he stood before didn't seem any better or worse than the rest of them ruins on the block. The entire area was stuck in what Sam had termed 'an economic downturn'. Dean had less kind words to describe it. More broken windows than whole stared back at Castiel. He didn't like that, feeling as if he were being watched by all those shattered panes. Scrubby weeds and the beginnings of bushes broke through the cracked sidewalk and littered what had once been well manicured flowerbeds. Graffiti portraying the name 'BOS' done in thick male genitalia with female for the center letter and different gang tags crossed out overwrote the formerly elegant lettered signs for an automobile manufacturing plant.

"I don't see anything out of the unusual yet."

While Dean was only a few hours away, the heavy static on the line made him seem further. "Nothing tripping your angelic spidey senses?"

Trust Dean to classify angelic god given abilities to comic book slang. Cas was almost insulted. "No. Only some badly executed street art, a rat eating what I assume was once another rat, many cockroaches and a few blocks of abandoned buildings, Dean. I see no evidence of a hive of vampires or something else that could cause the occasional disappearance in this area."

Dean's sigh said volumes. Mostly that he thought (and had protested loudly to Sam) that this was a wild goose chase. The homeless, drug users, prostitutes and runaways didn't exactly leave forwarding addresses when they pulled up stakes for a better place. They didn't notify friends and family. Sam Winchester had disagreed. They made easy victims, ones that no one noticed were gone or what their exact numbers even were. The few that had hit the police blotter had last been seen in this area.

While the brothers fell into an arguing match with the phone on speaker, Castiel crossed the weedy lawn. Heavy rusted chain looped over the front doors. Where the ripped away building directory had been someone had spraypainted in black _'Are you nobody too?'_. Even with the bashed out tiny windows in the front, Cas couldn't make out much inside except for small piles of broken tiles from the ceiling and a lot of dust. 

"Hey Cas?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"You see anyone around that you might be able to pay to answer some questions? Kids looking to make a quick buck or someone sleeping on the street? Anyone that might have seen something?"

Maybe that was what seemed off about this whole thing to Castiel. At it being pointed out to him, the silence seemed almost oppressive. There was no one around except for the feasting rat. No cats or dogs, men or women. Not a single car had passed him since he'd parked his own in front of this building. The day was warm and sunny, yet there were no calls of children playing outside or even distant traffic. Looking back at his car gave him a twinge, as if he'd never see it again.

"I believe I am doing what Dean calls 'scaring myself', Sam. No, there is no one around. Except for the rat and other vermin, I've seen nothing living. Someone has been around though. There are paintings and graffiti on the surrounding building. The one off to my left informs me that 'Satin Rules' with a poorly executed pentagram beneath it."

Dean's voice crackled with laughter. "Always liked silk more myself. That bartender two blocks over has a sweet red pair of them-"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam snapped with a sigh. "Cas, other than praising 'Satin', are you seeing any occult symbols? Blood? Anything suspicious?"

"Front is locked up. I'm heading around back to see if there's another way in. On the sidewalk is another piece saying _'Leave before they harvest your corpse'_. Given the poor quality of lettering and the hot pink color, it seems our artist is trying to be frightening. I don't see anything that would indicate witch activity or anything concerning. Hm. The backdoor is unchained and hanging open."

"This sounds like a cheap horror movie. _The Thing That Ate Wisconsin_!" The bad connection barely picked up Dean's voice enough for it to be heard over the static. "You see anyone with a hockey mask on or a pickaxe, you get out, Cas."

"I wouldn't remain if that were the case. Statistically, from the movies you're referring to, a pickaxe is an uncommon and not particularly useful weapon. A machete would be much more effective. I'm inside now, and it's empty. Some of the ceiling has fallen in, but there's still no sign of anyone having been in here. No food wrappers or sleeping bags. Nothing more written on the walls."

"I don't like this. Get out of there. We'll head out of here and meet you at your motel room in a few hours," Sam said. "Any minute now that door is going to blow shut behind you and Freddy is going to leap out."

Dean snorted. "Freddy is technically a demon. Cas would wipe his ass out and bring home his glove as a souvenir. Might look nice over the mantle."

Castiel could hear the frown in Sam's voice. The line between them worsened with another growl of static. Nothing could be seen on the floor besides broken glass and empty offices. He caught sight of his car again at the curb through the dirty window. The illusion of distance that wasn't just physical persisted. 

"Get out of there, Cas. We've got nothing up here. The possession was more an old granny who had learned how to mark cards and faked her cataracts. The three of us can take a look at it tomorrow."

"There are stairs going down, Sam. I can take a quick look. If there are witches or something else using this place, I doubt they would be here on the main floor," Castiel replied, ignoring Dean's whining in the background of having a date with Miss Red Silk Panties in favor of the still lucid brother. Of course Dean had already gotten in with the first woman he could. Cas didn't wait for Sam's agreement, already walking back to the downward leading staircase. The beam of his flashlight didn't pierce far, but what it did show was nothing spectacular. More chunks of concrete from the walls, more dirt. Nothing living or any signs of something having been down there recently except for an old can of black spraypaint near the bottom. The white label on it was bleached of its formerly bright colors, the whites gone ivory. 

Irritation was clear in Sam's voice as he spoke up from the cellphone. "Shut up, Dean! I don't care if she said she'd bake you a dozen apple pies or if her roommate is out of town for the weekend!"

"Hello?" Cas called out. His nose wrinkled at his voice echoing hollowly back to him. "Is anyone down here?"

"Did he just ask if anyone was down there?" Dean muttered. "He really just asked some dark place if anyone was there?"

"Yeah, he did." Even Sam didn't sound too impressed with his hunting skills now.

"Cas, old buddy, we do not ask the monster in the creepy abandoned building if it's hiding down there because it gives your position away, and more importantly, it might just answer. Surprise is your friend, okay? Throw me my shirt over there, Sammy. Get this shit packed up and on the road."

The angel huffed as he headed down the stairs. At least Dean had gotten off the woman's undergarments. Nothing Castiel had seen so far gave sign of a monster, only misled teenagers at best. His flashlight beam moved over the industrial boring cream colored walls and the dull grey tile floors. The light danced across the walls as he reached the bottom floor. No scent of decay came to the angel, no reek of something evil or dark. Only time and emptiness. Only thing on this floor were more ransacked storerooms and more stairs leading down.

"I'm in a crypt." A normal person, a human that is, might have sounded stressed or worried. Concerned at least. Castiel said it as if he were a cheap recorded tourguide.

"A what?"

"Did he just say a crypt?"

The beam of Castiel's flashlight moved over the long decayed bodies, most having fallen to skeletons long ago. "I did say a crypt although 'catacombs' might be a more accurate description. They must have built on top of the ruins of an old church or graveyard. There are corpses down here, but they're all very old and human. The only thing recent is more graffiti on the floor. ' _Never seen by waking eyes'_ is what it says."

Crackles blotted out Dean and Sam's voice for a few seconds, long enough for Castiel to focus on his cellphone to make sure they hadn't been disconnected. Sam's voice could barely be made out.

"-get out - see - tonight."

"What? I didn't get that." But he knew what Sam was saying, but he wanted to make sure there was nothing in this place. He didn't want either of the Winchesters to come here. Something was off here, and if he were to be honest, his pride was stung. An Angel of the Lord, even one like himself could do just as well as they could. _Never seen by waking eyes_. Where had he seen or heard that before? For some reason Metatron came to mind. As if a lightswitch had been thrown, Castiel suddenly knew where the people had gone, what was down here in the long buried church catacombs with him.

The scrape of skin on stone from his side only confirmed it as a hand closed on his own.

"Leaving now -" Dean said tinnily from the cellphone as it dropped to the ground. "-you. What - say - eyes?"

\------------------

"We're leaving now," Dean said, glancing over as Sammy as he shoved the last of their things into the duffle bag. "Be there in a few hours. Get out of there right now. We're losing you. And what did you say about 'waking eyes'?"

Sam caught the Impala keys as Dean threw them. Bags stowed, he leaned in the door to get the last bag. Quick checkout, and they'd be on their way to Castiel's location. Witches was what he was putting his money on. Vampires would have left signs for Cas to pick up on. Same with a skinwalker or most other things. All thought ground to a halt when he caught sight of Dean's pale face as he stared down at the cellphone in his hand.

"If you have any brains at all, you'll leave him the fuck alone and walk away," Dean said in a cold tone that promised violence. "Just walk away and maybe, just maybe, I won't rip your head off."

Across the clearer open line (Cas must have headed back up the stairs, Sam reasoned) only deep breathing could be heard. A breathy chuckle followed that sent all the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stirring. Not their angel. The call ended with an unimportant sounding click.

"What happened?" Sam asked. "Ease up on my phone, man. I don't have a card to get another."

Dean made his fingers relax around the already groaning cheap plastic and gadgetry. "Something grabbed him. Had to. He said something about 'waking eyes' and then my name. He wasn't scared or upset though. It was like..."

Sam took his phone from Dean's hand, tucking it away in his shirt. If Castiel called back, it would probably be on his line. He wasn't sure the angel had Dean's new phone number yet since a ghoul had killed the previous one trying to rip open Dean's chest. "Like what?"

"Like he was happy or a little surprised."

A few minutes later they were buckled into the Impala, Dean's foot heavy on the gas and Sam doing trying to find out all he could about the area. Neither of them spoke about Castiel. He had either gotten away or he hadn't, the thought experiment of Schrödinger's cat in action. Talk wasn't going to change that. Now was for finding out what the angel ran into and how best to kill it. Painfully if necessary.

The purr of the Impala's engine built as the needle hovered around 80mph.


End file.
